Home in the Stars
by ScarletDevil1503
Summary: Sequel to "Never the Same." Kylo Ren, now leader of the First Order, struggles between a secret obsession and his twisted ambitions. Lucia Caltrel, former bodyguard turned traitor, seeks to redeem herself in a game where the only rule is survival. Set not too long after The Last Jedi. AU/OC
1. C-1: The Runabout

**Please note that this is a sequel to my story "Never the Same." If it's been a while, please read the epilogue of that story to get up to speed. This story is definitely more AU than most my fanfics, so the writing is a bit outside my comfort zone. I hope you enjoy, and please review! -Scarlet**

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 **S-2_C-1: The Runabout**

The break from hyperspace, though unplanned and immensely dangerous, almost felt like a relief. The stars danced peacefully in the vastness of space rather than blur by in a chaotic kaleidoscope. I immersed myself in the digital novel on my datapad, picked up from a merchant on the last spaceport we had visited. Though he didn't have the hyperdrive repair piece we had been searching for, he did have a tasteful collection of historical space adventures. I glanced at the blinking autopilot light every few minutes.

The vessel that Vegas had haggled for on Takodana was more or less a runabout vessel. In other words, a space junker. It was capable of hyperspace travel and had the capacity for a crew of four. Vegas suspected that the runabout had been modified for the hyperdrive, so it wasn't entirely compatible with the vessel's computer systems. In other words, we had been scammed.

A glint in the near distance caught my eye, causing me to lower my datapad. The light of a nearby star flashed off a rotating bit of space debris directly ahead. My eyes narrowed as I tried to make out the insignia on the side of the ruined hull of a spaceship—a cargo ship perhaps? Suddenly, I realized we were getting much too close much too fast.

Grabbing the control sticks on instinct, I pulled up hard and fast. The runabout lurched upwards, triggering all sorts of alarm signals and flashing lights. "Vegas!" I shouted, hoping to wake him. _I can't fly this thing!_

Right on cue, Vegas pitched himself into the co-pilot seat, hair disheveled and eyes half-crusted with sleep. "What the hell!" he exclaimed, using the controls to even us out. He maneuvered around several more pieces of debris as I caught my breath, heart beating out of control.

"It just came out of nowhere!" I said, dazed. We were silent as Vegas finished maneuvering the debris field, and I sensed his nerves. Lack of sleep, stress, and constant running had been the theme of the last four weeks of our lives. I had never imagined that escaping the First Order would be so … slow.

"Was that First Order?" I asked once we were clear, stealing a glance at Vegas. He was resetting the autopilot with his usual tired mask in place.

"No—that design is Resistance. Couldn't make out the symbol though."

 _Another Resistance graveyard_ , I thought. To say that the First Order had stepped up their assault on the Resistance after the destruction of _Starkiller_ was an understatement. The bits of intergalactic news we picked up from trading posts and merchant planets spelled doom for the Resistance—and soon. It was even rumored that one of the Resistance heroes credited for _Starkiller_ , Rey, was dead. Even General Organa's fleet hadn't transmitted in weeks.

Vegas was biting his lip in thought. "I don't like the idea of Yavin now."

I clenched my jaw to keep it from dropping. "We're just two days away," I said in a skeptical tone. "And they will definitely have that part."

He shook his head, making eye contact for the first time. " _They_ could be close. And since we're not in hyperspace, they could track us without us even knowing."

This wasn't the first time that we had changed course based on Vegas' worries. I felt my temper building. "They're going to be 'close' no matter where we go in the galaxy, Vegas."

"Not in the Cadavine Sector—no bases there," he argued.

I nodded with an incredulous smile. "Which is why we need our hyperdrive fixed."

His tired eyes sparked with annoyance. "We can't fix it from a First Order brig, now can we?" he snapped.

 _He sounds like a coward._ I clenched my hands into fists to keep from voicing my thoughts. My eyes tracked back to the main viewport. "No, we can't," I ground out.

"I don't want to argue with you, Luce. We just can't take risks right now. We've come so far—"

"I know," I interrupted like a child. "I'm just tired, John. Really tired."

I felt his eyes on me like he was trying to read my mind, to see if I was hiding something. His next question had become familiar to me. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"No," I said, rising from my seat. "Did you get enough sleep?" I asked, unfeeling and expressionless.

"Yeah," he sighed. "Go get some rest."

With a scowl on my face, I vanished into the crew cabin, a tiny, dark room with four bunks and a refresher. The small space offered barely any relief from the suffocating runabout. I sat on the edge of my bunk and planted my face in my hands, elbows on knees. My mood had gone from indifference to devastation in the blink of an eye. _This isn't me._ I massaged my fingers into my brow to smooth out the wrinkles.

Four weeks on the runabout had left me a ruined mess. I hated to admit it, but I missed the purpose and dignity that the First Order had given me. My time there had transformed me from a lost young woman searching for her place in the galaxy to a confident leader filled with passion and resolve. If it hadn't been for Vegas' idea of escape, I would still be there. If it hadn't been for the First Order's turn from military conquest to senseless murder, I would still be there. If it hadn't been for Kylo's abuse, I would still be there.

I shivered at the memories of my final days with Kylo Ren. Dark, irrational, and controlling—unrecognizable compared to the man that I fell in love with. Before those times on the _Finalizer_ , I thought that he had felt the same way that I did. However, when I look back on everything, I doubt he ever loved me.

The thoughts drew my attention to the gnawing cramps in my abdomen. Sitting up, I pressed a hand there and let out a breath that I hadn't realized I was holding. I jumped when I heard a soft knock on the cabin door.

"Luce?" I chose not to respond, and the door cracked to reveal a sliver of Vegas' silhouette. "We'll go to Yavin," he muttered, resigned.

"Thank you," I said, eyes downcast.

After he shut the door, I laid in my bunk with the thin sheet tucked under my chin. The cabin felt cramped without a viewport—I hated it. The sooner we got to Tatooine, the farther my problems would be. My hand crept unconsciously back to my abdomen. I squeezed my eyes shut and once again pictured the warm, red sands of my future home in the stars.


	2. C-2: The Marketplace

**Thanks so much for all the follows! I finally have some time off work so hopefully I can make some progress on this story. I definitely missed writing for these characters. Please review and leave your thoughts! -Scarlet**

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 **S-2_C-2: The Marketplace**

Yavin-5 was by majority a trade world. Most of its citizens were merchants, their families, and the lower class workers in their employment. We docked at the largest city on the small moon, which was the only place we were authorized to land. After receiving directions from the portmaster on likely locations for our repair piece, we set out across the vast marketplace.

Our scarves and hats disguised our appearance as usual. It wasn't at all uncommon for people's faces to be hidden on worlds such as Yavin, so we didn't stand out as different. In the narrow streets packed tightly with businesses of all sorts, I caught sight of holoscreens through the large windows.

" _General Organa dead, Resistance crumbles._ " The screen played a short clip of the General's downcast face. Another read: " _First Order dreadnought blown up by dwindling Resistance forces."_ I narrowed my eyes at the second one—it was certainly hard to believe.

Then again, who would've guessed the Resistance could blow up _Starkiller_?

"Stay close, Lucy." I felt Vegas take hold of my hand as we weaved through the crowded street. "I have a bad feeling."

My eyes turned to the faces in the crowd, scanning, trying to sense what Vegas was sensing. _He worries too much._ Traders, travellers, workers, and the usual hired muscle were the only individuals within my vision. No one would recognize us in a million years. The more I looked, however, the more nervous I became.

"This is the first one," Vegas muttered, pulling us into a junk shop.

The shop was littered with shiny pieces for vessels, weapons, appliances, and many more that I didn't recognize. The feature they all had in common was the chromium shine without a speck of dust. A similarly colored protocol droid stood at the round counter in the middle of the shop. Vegas approached with brisk steps.

"Hi," he said gruffly.

"Welcome to Tana's Relic Emporium," replied the scripted droid. "We offer a variety of replacement parts for all your technological needs."

"Yeah, thanks. What I'm looking for is a part to a Mark IV Hyperdrive _Standard_ , not the Superdrive."

"Yes, sir. The Mark IV Hyperdrive Superdrive," chirped the droid.

Vegas heaved a heavy sigh.

I meandered around the shop while Vegas tried getting a straight answer out of the overly polite droid. There was even a small selection of silver and platinum jewelry—no gold though. I caught sight of myself in the shiny surface of a plated necklace; I quickly looked away.

"I do believe we do not have what you are looking for," the unit announced, looking from his data screen to Vegas' pissed face.

"'Do not'?" he snapped.

"We do not," it repeated.

I sensed Vegas' frustration. It was almost seven days that we had been searching for the repair piece. Granted, Yavin was only our second stop since our hyperdrive went down. But Vegas' sense of urgency—his drive to keep moving—injected a bit of panic into our every step. I turned to leave the shop even before Vegas was finished chewing out the droid. _Vegas is as grumpy as an old man today._

A fierce looking woman stood at the threshold of the junk shop, causing me to halt in my tracks. "Excuse me," I breathed, drawing back. She had an overwhelming presence—a mercenary? I briefly wondered if I carried such a presence when I …

"Who are you?" the woman asked, eying me.

I immediately scanned her armor for any sign of the First Order. There was nothing besides a bird's wing on her shoulder plate. "Who's asking?" I shot back.

"Yavin-5 security is asking," she stated evenly. Her mouth was hidden behind a purple scarf, but her eyes were a piercing neon blue.

Fortunately, I had seen the uniforms of the Yavin security force at the spaceport. She was lying. Before I could get the words out of my mouth, Vegas stepped partially in front of me.

"You're not with Yavin," he interrupted.

"And you are?" the woman asked, straightening to become nose-to-nose with Vegas.

"None of your business." Vegas' hand found my wrist and gave it a rough yank towards the exit. I looked back at the shop as the crowd swallowed us; the woman stood on the doorstep, staring at us.

"I asked you to stay close," Vegas reminded me, moving his hand to close tightly around mine.

I chose not to respond. "Who do you think she was?" I asked instead.

"A bounty hunter—maybe." I heard the frown in his voice. "Not a good sign."

My stomach immediately twisted into knots, and I swallowed hard. _Why would there be a bounty hunter after us?_ The question died in my throat as reality sank in. No one had directly confronted us before. Was our lucky streak coming to an end? I prayed to the stars that that wasn't the case.

The flow of the crowd was disrupted ahead by a large man standing in the middle of the street. Confused voices mixed together into a cacophony of different languages. I tugged at Vegas' hand when I realized that he didn't see the man. He didn't feel that either.

"Vegas!" I finally yelled, digging my heels into the ground. Immediately, the large man's face turned toward us with an equally large grin. Vegas stopped this time and turned on a dime.

The woman was there again, standing in front of the shop. Did she hear too? Vegas navigated us away from both of them, practically pushing his way through the crowd. In a matter of minutes we were already halfway back to the spaceport. A small alcove adjacent to a power building gave us reprieve from the crowd.

"Who were they?" I asked, panting as though I had just sprinted.

"I don't know," Vegas replied, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. He pulled the scarf away from his mouth to gulp in extra air, eyes scanning the remaining crowd on the street. "I don't want to know."

"Should we leave?" I asked. My fingers worried at the loose strings on my sleeve, an old habit coming to surface. My mind raced like a hunted animal and I struggled to grasp hold of my decision making.

Vegas released a terse breath. "You sound like me," he mumbled.

"You've kept us safe so far," I granted, realizing my newfound appreciation.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Vegas pinched the bridge of his nose. "I don't know," he repeated. "They might just follow us in space too if we leave without that part."

I mulled the thought over. "Agreed," I said. "We can't use the main street now."

Without warning, Vegas lurched forward with a grunt. I caught hold of his forearms and felt most of his weight leaning into me. "What—?"

A sudden sharp pain on my shoulder caused me to gasp, and I looked to see a sleek silver dart poking out of my clothes. Scorching fire ripped down my arm and across my chest in the blink of an eye, and I screamed. I felt the sensation of falling without ever hitting the ground.

...

I came to in a very hot room. My shoulder ached, so I reached over and found a piece of metal sticking out of it. I gasped in a moment of panic. _Where am I? How did I get here?_ Nausea swept over me but I swallowed hard, willing my mind to overcome it. Keeping the metal as stable as I could, I sat up to better visualize my shoulder. A dim greenish light illuminated the wound.

The dried ring of blood that surrounded the puncture site told me that I had been unconscious for quite some time. A tranquilizer. With my eyes tightly shut, I pulled the dart out of my skin with barely a second thought. Shooting pains ricocheted down my arm as a trickle of blood started anew. Scowling, I pressed my palm against my oozing shoulder.

My surroundings were difficult to make out in the green hue. Humming machinery and warm metal surfaces indicated it could be the engine room of a spacecraft. _Definitely in space_ , my senses told me.

 _Yavin_.

The memories came back with a rush of fear and anxiety. I immediately began searching for Vegas. My last memory was a large man standing in a crowd of people, Vegas' hand held tightly in mine.

I froze at the sudden sound of a metal latch on a door. My eyes quickly scanned for a hiding place but it was hopeless amid the darkness. A small light illuminated an alien figure as it came closer.

"Zikway?" the voice said. "Iba zikway un Babway."

The language wasn't familiar to me —definitely not Basic. The alien figure turned out to be a race I wasn't familiar with either. I startled when the large orange eyes looked down at me, crouched in the darkness.

"Zikway?" it repeated, scratching its tiny bald head. I decided it wasn't an immediate threat and rose slowly to my feet. "Ooman," it then said, pointing to me.

"Yes!" I exclaimed, motioning to myself. "Human." The diplomat lessons from my fleet training kicked in. I then motioned around the room with a quizzical expression. "Another human?" I asked.

"Ooman," it said again, pointing across the room.

I cautiously made my way in the general direction, bumping into what could have been a table along the way. My reaching hands came into contact with a warm body which I quickly recognized to be Vegas. His arms caught me up in a tight embrace.

"They were bounty hunters," Vegas breathed into my ear. "We were right."

I felt my chest tighten anew with fear. "Where are they taking us?"

"To _Supremacy_ ," he said in a completely defeated tone. His voice cracked in a way that I had never heard before. "They're taking us to _Supremacy_."

My spirit crumbled, and I squeezed Vegas tighter. _Snoke is going to execute us_. Without saying a word, I knew Vegas was thinking the exact same thing.


	3. C-3: The Supremacy

**[10/02/18] Hello readers! I am eager to get back into this story. Please leave your thoughts in a review. Thanks for reading! -Scarlet**

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 **S-2_C-3: The Supremacy**

Our captors were not kind. My first interaction with them was when I was searching for another source of light in our apparent prison. I tapped on a small glass porthole that showed a glimpse of the engine room personnel. Unable to communicate through Basic, I tried some common Signs with my hands. One of the orange-eyed creatures opened the door to the engine compartment and shoved me halfway across the room, muttering some angry phrases. I couldn't see the bruises but I felt them.

Barr, our alien comrade, seemed to be an outcast of the crew. He was the same race as the others, though very obviously in some kind of punishment. I regretted that I couldn't get the whole story through the minimal Signs that I knew. The two bounty hunters that abducted us were probably giving the crew the same kind of treatment.

"You awake?" I heard Vegas ask from across the room.

"Yes," I replied, clearing my throat when I heard how hoarse my voice was. It had been almost two full days with very little water shared among us. I assumed forty-eight hours had passed; there was no day or night cycle that I could see.

"What are you gonna say?" Vegas asked, and it was the most words I'd heard from him in hours. With my sight useless, I heard every detail of Vegas' voice.

"To Snoke?"

"To Ren," he clarified.

My demeanor immediately hardened. "There's nothing to say, really."

"I want to give him a piece of my mind," Vegas said with an aimless tone. "Tell him what I'm really thinking for once."

I felt my stomach churn at the very thought of seeing Ren again. Deep down, in my deepest thoughts, there were things that I never wanted to reach him. However, if he wanted to take those thoughts he certainly could. I somehow hoped that I would first speak to Snoke, who had shown me some sort of kindness in the past. I briefly wondered if I had imagined it. Better yet, Captain Phasma.

"John," I hissed under my breath. "What if we could talk to Phasma?"

There was a brief pause. "What difference would it make?" he scoffed. "We're still traitors, especially to her."

"She hates Ren," I went on. "She would sympathize with us."

He sighed, long and deep. "Maybe in another galaxy, Luce." Some shuffling signaled that Vegas had stood to his feet. "I know you have some kind of connection with her, but she's still First Order. And we're not."

I felt Vegas sit next to me. His presence was instantly calming, and I automatically reached out to hold his hand. He laced his fingers through mine, squeezing once. "Feels like the calm before the storm," I murmured.

"That's one of your novels, isn't it? 'Calm Before the Storm.'"

"Yeah," I said, a bit chagrined. I searched for Vegas' face in the dim light. "Feels like forever ago, doesn't it?" I asked, picturing the once-hated runabout.

Vegas didn't respond right away, but I felt his eyes lock with mine. His irises appeared black in the darkness. "I wish it lasted forever."

I resisted the urge to disagree. Those weeks in the runabout had been almost as difficult as my first several weeks in the First Order. I remembered the many nights when I fell asleep at the copilot seat just to have some company.

"I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Vegas continued. I watched his face contort into a silent frown.

"You did," I said with a smile. "You were always there for me. From the very first day."

"That's not true…," he trailed off, leaving my mind to fill in the unsaid words. Memories of hiding bruises and making excuses flashed through my mind. A dull flutter passed through my chest, settling in my gut. I fought back a frown.

"That never should have happened," I stated in a hushed tone.

"No," he sighed. "I could've—"

"I could have," I interrupted, catching his eye again. The expression on his face was torn. "I could have said something. Don't blame yourself." The flutter in my stomach turned into a knot. "It was a choice that I made."

"Choice?" Vegas repeated, exasperated. "I wouldn't call it that. I call it survival."

I pulled my hand away to brush my hair back. "Call it what you want. It's over," I snapped.

Vegas withdrew, figuratively and physically. The instant pang of regret hit me, and part of me wanted to apologize for lashing out when he was obviously trying to help. The other part of me, the stubborn part, wanted him to feel the pain that still kept me up at night. My thoughts swirled with memories that I continuously tried to suppress.

"I'm sorry," Vegas muttered as he stood. A sudden jolt caused him to stumble as I clutched onto my seat. We froze; that was the first significant movement we had felt during our time there. Barr roused from slumber somewhere in the darkness, and I heard sleepy murmurs in his native tongue.

The door to our "cell" snapped open and light filled the room immediately, causing all three of us to cover our eyes. Two silhouettes filed into the small space, both holding weapons of some sort. It was the mercenaries that had originally captured us.

"We're here," the woman said in her ominous tone.

"Come with us," said the large man.

My heart leapt to a dizzying pace. As I stood to my feet, trying to tone out Barr's panicked gibberish, I felt sick. Vegas guided me by the shoulder, squeezing tight. One of them started yelling at Barr as the other one ushered us out the door. I reached for Vegas' hand but he pulled it away. I absently realized how that might look odd.

"It's okay," Vegas whispered as we were led through tight corridors. "If they wanted us dead, we would be dead by now."

I nodded, feeling some of the sickness pass. Adrenaline still rushed through my veins, all flight and no fight. When we approached the exit ramp, I expected to see a docking bay inside the Supremacy. Instead, we passed through an airlock into another small vessel. I suspected that it was one of the cargo ships that supplied the Supremacy. We soon came face to face with a First Order officer, stone faced and uniform pressed.

"You found them on Yavin?" the officer asked without introduction. The male mercenary gave Vegas a small shove to make him walk forward. I followed at his heel, receiving an icy glance from the officer.

"Yavin-5," the woman clarified. "We will need proof of the credit transfer."

The officer wore a face without expression. "The First Order doesn't 'prove' what we say has been done."

The mercenary tried to retort but her companion gestured to her. She relented with a look of uncertainty as she stared down the officer. I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile flash across his face. It made me remember the rush that came with asserting the will of the First Order.

Then, we were alone in the airlock chamber with the officer and what seemed to be his armored bodyguard. He turned to Vegas without acknowledging me.

"John Vegas," he said deeply and evenly, followed by a chuckle in the back of his throat. "How interesting that we should meet under these circumstances."

"And you are?" Vegas asked.

"Captain August, First Fleet under General Hux. I'm surprised you haven't heard of me." My eyes tracked to the insignia on his uniform. I was less familiar with the Fleet designations since all my service had been on the ground.

"Never," Vegas said in an almost mocking way.

"Well now you have," August retorted, narrowed eyes darting to me. "And you, Lucia Caltrel. Once revered officer and now outcast traitor."

I gulped around the rock in my throat. A dozen retorts appeared in my mind but I chose to stay silent. This Captain August was not worth my breath.

"Not feeling talkative, eh?" he continued, arching a brow. His eyes raked over me and I resisted the urge to squirm. "I'm sure that will change soon."

We were taken to a small lounge-like room where we were restrained onto separate chairs. The small vessel seemed to be designed to transport important—or infamous—people from ship to ship. Within minutes, the Supremacy came into view. Glowing an ethereal white from the light of a distant star, the massive ship glided against the vast backdrop of space. Fighters buzzed about the forward docking bays, training no doubt. Our heading changed suddenly and I assumed we had been cleared to land.

"They will definitely separate us," I heard Vegas say, pulling me out of my trance.

"Definitely," I agreed, my voice an apathetic monotone.

"They might torture us, try to break us."

I let my eyes drift shut as I imaged the inside of a prison cell, dark and isolated. The gravity of the situation loomed over me, threatening to collapse. "Why did they take us alive, John?" my voice shook with nerves.

There was a pause. "...I don't know."

The door behind us then snapped open and three Stormtroopers appeared. Two of them positioned themselves behind us as the third stood with his rifle at the ready. "We're here to 'escort' you aboard," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You'll have to untie our ankles," I reminded them in a quiet voice.

"That won't be necessary," I heard right before the swift blow to the back of my head.

…

I awoke to the brightest white I had ever seen. My arms and legs felt immobile, although I was standing. In the distance, I heard the hum of a force field—or was it close by? I blinked once, and then twice. Am I dreaming?

"Welcome aboard."

I fixed my eyes on him, awestruck. A fading scar across his right cheek was not the only thing that had changed. His expression was more relaxed, his eyes were softer, and his posture was less threatening. I then decided I really was dreaming.

"Will you speak?" he asked, voice soft and inquisitive.

The device I was restrained against was like a tilted examination table. Multiple metal bands rendered my arms and legs completely unmovable. My tattered clothes stuck to my clammy skin; nausea gnawed at my stomach.

"Lucia," he said, retrieving my attention. He was seated before me leaning forward on his knees with his hands folded. His brown eyes gazed up at me almost peacefully. "Say something."

"There's nothing to say," I croaked.

He stood, reaching for a basin of water on a table nearby. He placed the ladle of lukewarm water on my lips, urging me to drink. I did, with some difficulty, and immediately asked for more. Five ladles later, I felt more satisfied than I had in days.

"Hungry?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"You're probably starving, beyond the point of hunger."

I simply shrugged as he took his seat again. Starvation would explain my splitting headache and nausea. Despite this, I felt my stubborness prevail. My eyes looked anywhere but at him.

"Why did you leave?"

The question was so simple that it could be answered a thousand ways. I let my first thought loose. "Because you're a psychopath."

A breathy chuckle escaped before he buried his chin in his hand. He remained silent.

"You left me no choice," I explained defensively, temper building.

"You didn't ask for a choice," he countered. His tone was surprisingly controlled.

"A person shouldn't have to ask for a choice," I fumed, feeling myself losing control.

Silently, he held a datapad in front of my face. My eyes began to read the words there instinctively. 'Kylo— By the time you read this, I will be gone.' I closed my eyes immediately when I realized what I was reading.

"'Please know that my feelings for you were real,'" he quoted. He quietly placed the datapad on the table.

"I don't have to explain myself to you," I lashed out. "You turned into something I could never love!"

"You're lying," he stated calmly. "I can tell even without looking into your mind that you still have feelings for me."

"Not anymore. Maybe I had some when I wrote that, but now I feel nothing for you," I argued.

"My feelings, too, have changed," Ren stated, taking his seat once more.

The statement felt like a bucket of cold water had been thrown on me. I finally locked eyes with him, searching for the truth. His expression was the same as before—relaxed, complacent. My surprise was definitely evident. Then why was I taken alive?

"If fact, a lot has changed. There has been a new birth in the galaxy. Old things have died." The calmness of his demeanor contrasted with the severity of his words.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked, anger turning to curiosity.

He seemed to think for a moment, deciding how to phrase his next words. "That's not important right now," he hedged. "I simply want you to answer my question."

With a slight gesture of his hand, I felt his reach work its way into my thoughts. I winced uncomfortably at the unexpected intrusion. Unable to move, I turned my head away, forehead digging into the cold metal behind me.

"Lucia, look at me," he ordered, and I obeyed. Beads of sweat formed on my brow as my fingernails dug into my palms. My skin crawled. "Why did you leave?"

Right before the sensation became intolerable, I felt his reach retract. I gasped, trying to catch my breath. Ren suddenly knelt before me with a look of wonder on his face.

"What?" I asked, perplexed.

His gloved hand then rested on my abdomen, a tender gesture. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at his touch. His eyes seemed to be searching, and then he looked up at me. "Why didn't you tell me?"

The realization of what he was referring to almost brought me to tears. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. "I wasn't sure," I murmured thickly, unable to keep the emotion out of my voice. Hot tears seared down my cheeks. "So, I'm…?"

"Yes," he said, his brow furrowing. It was the first real emotion I had seen on his face. "Yes, you are."


	4. C-4: The Room

**[10/03/18] Definitely excited about the direction of this story. What do you think? Let me know! -Scarlet**

* * *

 **S-2_C-4: The Room**

To say that Ren rushed me to the medical ward would be an understatement. In fact, the med bot and the medical officer met us halfway in a random corridor to check my vital signs. Ren followed closely as they took me the rest of the way to the ward.

I was placed in an exam room to have an ultrasound done and blood drawn. They gave me water and protein supplements while they asked me all sorts of questions. Ren stood silently outside, watching through the glass walls with a guarded expression.

The ultrasound showed that I was six weeks pregnant. I watched with disattached interest as the medical officer showed me the baby's tiny body. Apparently it wasn't as developed as it should have been. He described the symptoms I may experience in the next several weeks, and detailed the necessary nutritional intake.

"I have something I would like to ask," I interrupted the generic speech.

"Sure," the officer said.

I felt a flare of nerves but tried to ignore it. "When I was eighteen, I was told that I was infertile. They said it was, um," I thought for a moment, "something wrong with the lining of my uterus."

"Well, whatever it was seems to have resolved," he said with a smirk. "A woman's uterus can change over the years. Don't worry about it. We'll keep checking on you and the baby."

After the exam, a droid led me to a mess hall and left me there. The room was empty save for the chef behind the line. I took a moment to look around for Stormtroopers or guards of any kind. Cautiously, I approached the chef's counter.

"Am I a prisoner?" I asked, startling the dosing chef.

He stood from his stool in the corner and rubbed the sleep from eyes. "Well, he seems to think so."

Following the line of his eyes, I looked behind myself to see a small BB-9E unit with its red eye fixed on me. How did I not see it before? The round, almost comedic appearance hid the true ruthless programing of most BB units.

"Thanks for pointing that out," I chagrined, grabbing a plate.

The chef smiled sympathetically. "Help yourself."

The BB unit followed my every move. Each step I took, the electric hum of its moving sphere echoed my steps. When I sat down to eat my plate of hot food, it watched from beside the table with its eery red eye.

As I began to eat, I realized just how hungry I was. I decided to take it slow and see how my stomach would react. Pausing minutely, I placed a hand on the lower part of my abdomen. My greatest fear—the nagging thought that I kept pushing down, down, down—was reality. I wondered why I didn't feel more bothered about it.

Probably shock.

After finishing my second plate, I finally felt some energy returning to my body. The BB unit let out a string of garbled Droidspeak as I discarded my dishes.

"I don't understand you," I informed the bot with a shrug. I often regretted never learning Droidspeak but hardly had the time to invest into the language.

The bot opened one of its panels and extended a pincer as if to point, garbling something short and to the point.

"Go that way?" I asked, taking a step. The bot chirped tersely and rolled along behind me. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I wasn't important enough for an actual human warden?

A few short corridors later, I was led into a room that appeared similar to the white one from before. However, this one had furniture and walls like an actual room, minus the ceiling. In fact, it was difficult to tell the height of the room just by looking up. I entered the open-sided sitting room, which led to the bedroom and then the bathroom. Each room had a "window" that displayed a video of a peaceful scene: a meadow, a beach, a cityscape, and so on. The scenes rotated every few minutes.

"I designed this room for General Organa," I heard Ren's voice say.

Being in the bedroom, I spun around expecting to see him right behind me. Instead, I had to navigate outside the "house" to find him at the entrance to the white room. A light blue force field glowed behind him, contrasting sharply with his usual black tunic.

"Isn't she dead?" I asked.

A frown appeared. "No, she's not." He glanced away as if the subject bothered him. "BB-9E, display the night cycle," he instructed.

After a chirp of acknowledgement, the whiteness dimmed into the inky hue of space. I looked around, awestruck, as stars and galaxies appeared one by one. I had never seen such technology. My eyes quickly adjusted to the light from the uncountable plethora of stars.

"Incredible," I breathed. The continuous blue glow from the force field was a harsh reminder of reality. "For a prison cell," I added, glancing sideways at Ren.

"You'll be here until you give birth," he stated, meeting my eye unapologetically.

"So, eight months in this room." I pressed my palm into my forehead as I tried to process the length of time. I took a seat on one of the awkwardly placed couches in the "open" sitting room.

"Seven and a half. I don't see any other solution," Ren concluded, folding his hands behind his back. He didn't seem interested in entering the living space at all.

"I don't see why I'm here in the first place," I said emphatically. "You said your feelings have changed. I'm no good to the First Order anymore because I'm untrustworthy. Why was I captured alive?" I asked, leaning forward on my knees.

"First of all," Ren began, and I could see in his face that he had a speech prepared. "There was no good reason for you to leave. I believe you were wrongly influenced by Sergeant Vegas—"

"Where is John?" I interrupted, suddenly worried.

The look on his face could only be described as annoyed. "'John'?" he asked incredulously; I chose to remain silent. "Vegas is safe for the time being."

I grimaced at his choice of words.

"No more interruptions," Ren said, his complacent mask falling back into place. He cleared his throat before continuing. "A series of events has occurred that has left me with an entirely new set of goals and priorities."

"Did you find Luke Sky—" A sharp look told me to hold my tongue.

"Luke Skywalker is dead." He stopped for a moment and then he said, "Snoke is dead."

Shock pulsed throughout my body, and I hissed, " _What?_ "

"Snoke. He's dead." His brown eyes were expressionless.

"How?" I nearly shouted.

"I killed him," Ren clarified. "I told you, old things needed to die."

I heard the words but I couldn't conceive them. How could Ren turn on his master whom he had devoted himself to, body and mind?

"When the apprentice exceeds the master, it's time for new beginnings. It's happened like this before," he said, and then seemed to stop himself. "That's a story for another time."

I still felt the icy pricks of shock in my fingertips. The First Order without Supreme Leader Snoke was like an army without a leader. "Where is Captain Phasma?"

"Dead."

I winced. "Hux?"

He paused. "Subdued."

"Kylo," I sighed, the name slipping out. My nerves flared when I realized that Kylo Ren was now the sole leader of the First Order. How was it possible?

"Let me finish," he interjected. "I've gained control of the Empire that is rightfully mine. No one can stand in my way … except for one."

"General Organa?" I asked, and then placed a hand over my mouth when his eyes sent daggers. BB-9E fussed somewhere nearby.

"No." His eyes became distant. "Her name is Rey."

I felt a strange sensation in my chest when I saw the expression on his face.

"She is a Force-sensitive human who mistakes herself for a Jedi. She believes with Skywalker gone that she is the last of their kind. She is stuck in the past and empowered by it." Ren was looking off into the stars; I couldn't take my eyes off of his face. "If she joined me, we would be unstoppable. Instead, she believes the lies of Leia Organa and fights for the Resistance. So, she must be … destroyed."

Then I understood how his feelings had changed. The look on his face was unmistakable, and it made me burn on the inside

"But with this," he motioned to me, and I realized that my hand had unconsciously cradled my abdomen. "Things might change."

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking up at him. He began to pace in the large space.

"The Force is strong in my family. My mother has it. My father … didn't," he said with hesitation. "My grandfather was very strong in the Force."

"What good would a child be in a war?" I asked quizzically. "And how do the know the child will be Force-sensitive?"

"I can think of some ways," Ren said, returning his focus to me. His eyes narrowed suddenly. "The child is mine."

I couldn't tell whether it was a statement or a question, but it made me squirm. "I—"

"Were you unfaithful to me?" he demanded, and the question struck a nerve.

Unconsciously, I got to my feet to stand my ground. "Kylo, you abused me," I said defensively. "I felt completely devastated and unloved."

"You were unfaithful to me," he stated, expression melting into pure rage. "Is the child mine?" He stalked toward me aggressively.

I froze, my thoughts straining to align dates and events in my mind. "W-Wait," I stammered. "Let me think."

"Lucia, is the child mine?" he thundered, stretching out his hand.

"Kylo, let me think!" I shouted right before it was too late.

The mental intrusion was more gentle than before. Still, it uneased me as he sifted through thoughts and memories. He saw things that I would never say aloud; he felt things that I never wanted to feel again. Nevertheless, he saw the truth. His scowl slowly faded into a blank stare.

"No," he whispered, withdrawing a bit. "That couldn't be it."

"It's yours," I said, stepping away from him with a hand covering my face. Shame and regret bubbled up inside of me.

His voice was quiet. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't make you upset."

"You never worried before," I jabbed, hoping to hurt him a bit. If I did, he didn't show it on his face. My eyes fell to the floor. "I would rather you left me alone."

"Fine," he said, "I was finished anyway."

I heard his footsteps fading but in my stubborness I refused to say goodbye. I wondered if I would see him at all during my seven and a half months of imprisonment. Burying my face in my hands, I felt the warm rush of shame and frustration. The tears came fast and wet.

So began day one of two-hundred twenty-eight.


End file.
